


yielding

by pratktcven (calciseptine)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 15:57:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10193465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calciseptine/pseuds/pratktcven
Summary: Lance is determined to enjoy the brief reprieve.





	

They're on a nameless planet in a distant galaxy, lying low while repairs are done to the castle-ship. The last battle they waged against the Galra Empire had been a struggle to say the least, and Lance is determined to enjoy the brief reprieve while he can.

_Well,_ he thinks as his blankets are pulled from his sleep-warm body. _I'm trying._

"Up and at 'em, cadet," Shiro says cheerfully. "Training begins in an hour!"

"Fuhmuhmms," Lance mumbles.

"Nope!" Shiro continues in the same chipper tone. "That's what you said before my shower, which was ten minutes ago." Shiro's hand closes around Lance's ankle and gently tugs. "Don't make me drag you."

"You're already dragging me," groans Lance. "God, did you already drink a pot of space coffee or what?"

"Nah, I'm just naturally an annoying morning person."

There's another tug on Lance's ankle. Lance rolls over and looks at Shiro's smile and the damp hair falling across his forehead. He is dressed in his training gear, which is a breathable version of the bio-suits they wear underneath their paladin armor and a pair of lightweight boots. 

"Remind me again why I love you?" Lance asks groggily as he sits up.

"Because I'm devilishly handsome? Wicked smart? Incredibly fu— _oof_ —"

Lance grabs his pillow and nails Shiro in the side of the head. Shiro staggers from the unexpected blow. Then—less than a second later—Shiro has Lance pinned to their bed, his thick thighs on either side of Lance's hips. Lance wriggles inelegantly; he knows that he can't break Shiro's hold, but he that doesn't mean he has to make it easy.

"Stop wiggling!" Shiro laughs as he wraps his metal hand around both of Lance's thin wrists.

"Or what?" Lance challenges.

"Or…" Shiro holds up his free hand. "Face the tickle champion!"

"Oh no!" gasps Lance. "Not the tickle champion!"

Lance belies his faked fear by bucking upwards. It does not force Shiro off him—not that Lance expected it to, considering Shiro has an extra third of Lance's body mass—and the attempt at retaliation is met with a delicate and devastatingly ticklish sweep of fingers down Lance's ribs. Lance shrieks at the sensation.

"Do you yield?" asks Shiro, pitching his voice comically low.

" _Never!_ " Lance responds.

It is the wrong answer. Shiro continues to dig his fingers into all the ticklish places on Lance's torso while Lance twists in vain beneath him, gasping and giggling. He only stops when the tears in Lance's eyes overflow. Once Lance has caught his breath, Shiro releases his wrists, cradles his jaw with the same restraining hand, and presses kiss to his mouth.

"Come on," Shiro says quietly. "It's time to get up."

And this time, when Shiro slides off their bed to get ready for the day, Lance follows.

.

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me on my voltrash blog, [@pratktcven](http://pratktcven.tumblr.com/about)


End file.
